Ymdaton was awake surprisingly early, few hours before the time of meeting. It was unusual for Crewslayer to not sleep soundly before a battle. Was it the anticipation, that brought him into wakefulness? That was not a skirmish in the woods, not another single combat, not a battle against evil spirits. A war between between Khladnetz and its neighbouring states was on the way, man against man, crew against crew, nation against nation. He did not fight in a real war since Vetluna. That was the return to his very true craft.

How would he define the nature of war? History was ever written in blood. To start a war meant to wet the quill of a chronicler.

Thoughts would not allow Crewslayer to rest, so he decided to arm himself. When he left Isary, he did not bring his serf in charge of arms along. It was much longer and arduous task for him alone, yet the process also provided more time for meditation. When he put a helmet on his head and an axe at his side, Ymdaton was much more composed already. Then he looked through the window at the stars and understood, that it was still too early. It was quite hot in the house for a fully armoured man. He decided to go outside, get some fresh air.

It was still as cold as one would expect of the early spring morning. Ymdaton made a step and noticed a tiny dark silhouette before the doors. Upon looking closely, he saw that it was a cat with long dark fur, grey muzzle and green eyes. He knew that one. It was Spoosh, the pet of the deceased hunter-gatherer, who guided him through the eastern forest once. It was just as Crewslayer remembered it, except that its left ear was missing.

“You can’t be the same one, I left you deep in the east,” said he to the cat. It did not react, only watched him patiently.

“You should be some evil spirit in disguise, go away!” he made a threatening gesture. The cat was not impressed at all.

“Well, a cat is beyond forest’s powers, they say. You are not a spirit, still, go away,” he waved his hands at it. The animal would not move, piercing him with its gaze.

With a sigh, Ymdaton put his travel bag against the wall and returned to the house. Not before long, he came back with a piece of jerky. He tossed it towards the cat. The animal pounced on the meat and started tearing it with remarkable ferocity. It devoured the piece in few moments.

“Now go away, please,” said Crewslayer. The cat approached him and began brushing against his leg and purring, “No! You got it wrong!”

It was in that moment that flickering light coming from the backyard caught his attention. Ymdaton walked around the house, the cat followed his steps. The light came from two torches. Two barrels were placed between them, upon one a round shield was placed, upon the other Abimnupal sat with a brush in his hands. Several pots were at his feet, the brush was wet with paint.

“You look just as one of those forest dwellers,” said the crewman as he saw Ymdaton, “Complete with a pet,” he nodded towards the cat.

It was true, for Crewslayer was clad in drevlyani armour. Only the old axe and the shield betrayed his true descent. He was more comfortable using them, than heavier weapons of Drevlyani. There was also his left arm guard, and old battered bronze thing. He kept it for no particular reason, as a memento.

“I came to appreciate the protection it offers during my time in Velmytop,” Ymdaton shrugged his shoulders, so that his armour made a noise, “And that,” he glanced at Spoosh, “That is a certain deadman having a laugh.”

“Drevlyani say that a cat chooses to accompany one who has eyes of the forest upon him. It brings him luck that is required to survive. Isn’t it fitting?”

“And what are you doing here, that early?”

“I am doing my emblem,” Abimnupal drew a line with a brush on his shield.

“By yourself?”

“As you can see.”

“Was it damaged?”

“No. I just felt like I could make it better. I redraw it time to time, when I think that I acquired enough skill,” he paused for a moment and then added, “Usually I feel the urge to do so before a battle.”

Crewslayer moved closely and looked at the emblem. He saw it countless times before, but only now he noticed how beautiful it truly was. Abimnupal's shield bore the image of a sea serpent. Most shields that Ymdaton saw in his life were painted in a schematic manner, with simple lines and flat colours. But that one was unlike any other: detailed, with fine proportions, lively shades, visible texture of scales. Crewslayer saw even muscle being suggested under creature’s hide, and the coloring implied that the light falling upon it was distorted by the layers of water.

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“Did you ever think that you may have chosen the wrong craft?” smiled Ymdaton.

“No, I do kill people much better than I do paint,” laughed Abimnupal, “Besides, the only thing I did through the years was polishing a single picture. Everyone can do it.”

“I probably can’t.”

“You didn’t try. What is that drawn upon you shield though. Is it a crimson moon?”

“It is.”

“How did you choose it?” asked the crewman with a genuine interest.

“It implies that I was born under the bloody moon.”

“Were you?”

“No, not really. I was born the day when moon was bloodied, yes. But not under it, mother delivered me at the dawn. However, many people who knew the date of my birth told me that I was marked with bad luck. Even my parents fell for it, naming me after Ymdahy, to deny the connection with the that sign. You see, I do not believe in stars affecting our fates that much. When deciding upon my emblem, it appeared funny to me to carry the image that everyone is afraid of but me.”

“Don’t you feel heavy, bearing that many bad omens?” asked Abimnupal.

“Blood moon is not simply a bad omen.”

“It is Ymrah with his hands dirty from the blood of his kin. Quite grim.”

“It is also the blood of his enemies, when he returns from the battle, victorious. That can be an auspicious sign. Anyway, what else?”

“Your moniker. Salyer of crews. We are the crew. You are a part of the crew. Will you bring death upon us all?” his comrade did not sound concerned much while telling it.

“It’s not what it means. You know it, I’ve simply slain fourty men at Vetluna.”

“That is the past. But the words did stick with you onwards. They will affect the future in different ways. Perhaps, in tragic ways,” shook his head Abimnupal.

“I told you I do not believe these things. Besides, what would you do then? Avoid me, so that my bad luck won’t spill on you?” Ymdaton grinned.

“No. I won’t abandon my friend just because the stars played a cruel joke on him,” said Abimnupal in a peaceful tone.

“Where is Hasdruhy, though,” Ymdaton switched the subject hastily, “I haven’t seen him since yesterday evening.”

“He has a meeting. He will return just in time, don’t worry.”

“What kind of meeting is more important than rest before battle.”

“Don’t be obtuse,” said Abimnupal, looking him in the eyes.

Ymdaton whistled.

“Yeah,” his friend continued, “Did you know that this is common thing among crewmen by now. They choose wives from drevlyani women. Don’t you have somebody?”

“I have a wife waiting for me at Isary, you know,” Ymdaton furrowed his brows.

“Many of our brethren are married also. But their wives are across the sea, while there are many fair women among forest dwellers,” shrugged his shoulders Abimnupal.

“Do you have one?” grinned Ymdaton.

“No, I am also married and have a child. I love my family too much.”

They both were silent for some moments.

“I was to a bawdy house few times,” said Crewslayer.

“Do you remember anything meaningful: a look in the eyes, a voice, a laugh?” asked Abimnupal.

“No, not really,” said Ymdaton thoughtfully.

“Then it does not mean much,” smiled his comrade.

“Fine,” said Crewslayer with renewed energy in his tone, “I will go to the gathering point.”

“It is still too early.”

“I will walk slowly.”

“Well then. We’ll meet before the battle,” Abimnupal made a spread fingers gesture.

Ymdaton returned it.

Spoosh followed him to the entrance, but halted there and would not step onto the street.

“Don’t you dare staying until I return,” said Crewslayer to the cat and closed the gates behind him.